


Looking back, I should have known

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:22:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/U Involves time travel and I've tried to add some humour</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wales  
1459

 

“Can we go over it again? You’re the Earl of March?” She walked beside a group of armour clad knights, talking to the youngest as he walked next to her, apparently ignoring what she was saying with little effort. “So you’re the Earl of March and there’s a war on?”  
  
“This is why we don’t allow the lady folk their place in warfare.” One of the older knights snickered, looking at her as though she were an object. She was quickly brought herself back from snapping a harsh worded retort to the pervvy fool as the young knight replied.  
  
“Yes that’s correct, Lady…” as he broke off, apparently looking into emptiness, she blushed; it had taken her a moment to gain her senses enough to realise that he was searching for the name she hadn’t offered him.  
  
“Anne, Anne Neville.”

The name went down as though it were a tonne of bricks, more like a nuclear bomb. “You’re Lady Anne Neville?”  
  
“Yes….” What was so hard to understand about that?  
  
“My Lady.” It was a split second and he was on his knees before her. “I shall fetch you my horse, no lady of your standing should be here alone. How confused you must be-“  
  
“What year is it?”  
  
“1459.”  
  
Oh. Great.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Quite sure my lady, do you not remember? Truly? It was but three months past that we though you and your kin, mine also, were dead at Ludlow.”  
  
“Wait.” This was truly too much. “So you’re the Earl of March? England’s at war, it’s 1459 and I know you?”

“My Lady, you worry me with your loss of knowledge, yes that’s all so.”  
  
How wonderful.

“Then forgive me, Earl of March, that I somehow know, but I must be getting back to reality now.” She turned away and began her walk desperately trying to remember how she got there.

 

2012  
Warwickshire  
(About 3 hours earlier)

Tap… Tap… Tap…  
  
Anne Neville tapped her pencil on the desk, Mr Johnson always has a way of boring his students. Today he was babbling about problems; as if she didn’t have enough of them? She hardly needed them setting for her homework too. She would be working overtime just to solve her current problem. Richard.  
  
Richard Plantagenet had been her crush since nursery, that hadn’t gone away. She still blushed when she saw him, giggled when she spoke to him or of him. Since high school had started, she had giggled a lot. He knew of course, he had always knew she had fancied him. That didn’t make what had happened last night okay.

 

Isabelle (Anne’s sister) had told George (Richard’s brother) that Anne fancied Richard. Actually told Richard brother. How dare she? That had of course ended in her parents finding out as they had fought over Izzy’s ill informed decision. It  had all been so embarrassing. There was no way Richard had not been told, not now that big gob gossip George knew.

12.00p.m. fifteen minutes till lunch, she slipped her hand into her blazer pocket and risked a look at her phone. She opened the text from Richard.  
  
 _You told Izzy you fancy me? O.O meet at your locker? Lunch?_

She couldn’t help but hate herself at that moment, and her utter lack of control over her body as her cheeks stained red with blushes. Somehow the entire class had their attention fixed upon her, some laughed but all stared. She put her head on the table#. How she wished above all else she could be in another place, another time. Anywhere at all, but somewhere Richard wasn’t.

 

1459

She had walked for what seemed o be miles through trees and away from the Bedlam escapee’s. She hit a dirt road, half cobbled with misshapen stones, and onto a village which could have made a great exhibit in a history museum. The inhabitant, dressed in the classic archaic dress stared at her mud covered attire as though it were alien/ Had none of them seen a school before?

She heard the hooves beat on the ground, she did not have to question as she heard the young knights voice. “Lady Anne. Stop!”

“Really, I am sorry, but I don’t have time for this.”  
  
“Time, why? Where are you going?”  
  
“I need to get home to my father.”  
  
Beneath the helmet, the visor lifted, she saw sympathy fall over his eyes, she filled with deep anger, it didn’t improve as he spoke. “Aw sweeting.” He jumped from the horse, taking her in strong armoured arms. “Papa! Edmund! Here!”

Two more men approached, jumping from their horses, both removing their helmets. Shock fell over Anne’s face, it could not be, but… They looked so alike Richard father, his brother Edmund. The young knight took off his helmet, she gasped, but these three looked so… “What’s your name?”  
  
“Edward Plantag-“  
  
“Of course it is, yes. Oh that’s just great.” She pinched her arm, slapped her head. Nope, this was not a dream.  
  
“Anne, I promised youe father I’d look after you.”  
  
Yep, that’s right, you did. And then you let your father crash the car and…. She shook her head, this was too much. “That’s great, but I don’t need help. Unless any of you know the way to Reston Drive.”  
  
“To, where? Edward, are you sure this is Warwick’s daughter?”  
  
Warwick’s daughter? She had never been called that, just because she was a girl born at Warwick hospital did not make her ‘Warwick’s daughter’. Weirdos.

“What are you wearing?” The older man spoke up at last.  
  
“Oh, these? I got them at Marks and Spencers, the shoes from Next and-“  
  
“Where?”  
  
“You know, like in a shopping centre?” She raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You mean like a market?”  
  
“Yes, like a market.”  
  
“A strange market.”  
  
“It’s mainly from China so I think-“  
  
“I thought so.” Edmund looked proud, even as Edward rested a hand upon her shoulder walking forward with her as a woman beckoned them forward. A woman stood in her doorway offering her best toothless grin.  
  
“Anne Neville?”  
  
No Lady Anne… Finally.  
  
“Indeed, yes.”  
  
“Then come inside my dear, I’ll get you home. Bring his Lord of March with you. Please, I do insist.”

 

2013

She was jolted upright by the knock on the door, raced to answer it. Isabelle stood in front of her. “Finally Annie, I thought you were in another century or something.” Anne went white, Izzy sighed and continued. “George says you didn’t meet Richard this lunch.”

“I wasn’t well.” She hadn’t met Richard this lunch? And he had the courage to complain about it? It was hardly her fault she had thought she was in another century was it? “Look, I’ll text him later, But I don’t feel well.” She closed the door and turned around, fighting to muffle a scream.

“Text? Richard? George?” He looked around the room in fascination, eyes falling upon the computer, approaching it, he reached out, touched it and jumped back as the screen lit up. “Where am I?”  
  
“The twenty first century” No, she didn’t sound impressed about it either.  
  
“You surely jest?”  
  
“No, and keep your voice down.” She flocked the lock on her door, rubbed her temped. How was she going to get out of this one? “Edward, no.” He’d reached out to her window, about to pull back her curtains. “Sit down.” She indicated to the office chair.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“The chair.”  
  
“That’s a chair?” He looked as surprised as when the computer screen had lit up, changing his world as he had known it forever. She smiled, tried not to laugh as he fell several times trying to sit upon it before she finally held it still for him.  
  
“What do you remember.”  
  
“I’m Edward, Earl of March, son of the Duke of York, and you’re a witch.”  
  
“Yeah, well I can see why you’d think that.”

She stared at him a moment more, her thoughts moving to |Richard before she reached out for the photo album. Skimming through it, she found what she was looking for. Edward was busy spinning on the chair when she caught his attention. “Here, look at this.” She handed him the album.  
  
“What a wonderful book you have. Did the monks really make this for you?”  
  
“If that’s who Tesco employ then yes, I guess they did. But you’ll learn all about the wonder that is Tesco soon.” She pointed to the picture. “Who do you recognise?”  
  
“Its an accurate portrait, too accurate. There’s My lord father, Edmund, George, Richard, Ma mee… My god what is she wearing? Who drew this?”  
  
“Kodak.”  
  
“I’ve never heard of him, is he French?”  
  
“Try American.”  
  
“Ameri-“ He looked confused.  
  
“That’s right, you didn’t know that then… What a world it must have been without Columbus, potatoes or chocolate.”  
  
“Pot-“  
  
“Edward, the picture, please.”  
  
“Yes, yes. They all seem just like they did when I left them when…. Where did you get this?”  
  
“Max Speilman, a few years ago.”  
  
“This Max-“  
  
“They’ve closed now, look-“ here was another knock on the door. She sighed and opened it, this time unable to prevent Izzy charging into her room. Pausing quickly as her eyes fell upon the figure on the chair. It was quite the picture, he looked almost as scared as she.  
  
“Annie, what is he doing here?”  
  
“I can explain, well actually, no I cant.”  
  
“You, you’re meant to be…” Isabelle cut off as she looked over him. “What the hell are you wearing?”  
  
“Clothes.”  
  
“Yeah, from the 1550’s maybe.”  
  
“The 1400’s actually.” Anne couldn’t help herself, not even as Izzy offered her a disapproving glare.

“This is impossible-“  
  
“Improbable Izzy he’s-“  
“Annie!” She turned her attention back to Edward. “You’re meant to be dead-“  
  
“I’m charmed I’m sure, I cant even come here without people-“  
  
“No, I mean, your family they think… how?”  
  
“I’m dead?” He looked at his hands and his eyes widened.  
  
“Yes, 1483, so about…. 530 years?”  
  
“No Annie, 2 years ago, in a car crash! How are you going to tell Cecily? Richard?”  
  
“Wait, a car- a what?”  
  
Anne sighed, quickly growing bored of translating. “You fell from a horse, just play on the computer.” He offered her a blank expression, tilting his head in confusion, she pointed. “That, there. Play. Learn.”  
  
It took a moment of hushed mumbles between the sisters before he interrupted. “2. 0. 1. 3.”  
  
“Two thousand and thirteen.” Isabelle snapped. “I swear Edward you’ve gone round the bend.”  
  
“Around the…. Bend?”  
  
“She means you’ve gone crackers, mad, melancholic, devoid of your senses.” Anne translated once more, surprised as it was greeted by whooping laughter and a hand clap.  
  
“You have the spinning  throne and light up box, she tells me I’m dead and I’m the one devoid of my senses?”  
  
A moments silence was interrupted. “He has a point actually.” Anne smiled eben whilst Izzy sraed in white faced shock. 


	2. Chapter 2

An MI5 mission may have perhaps been easier. It had all started up again when Anne had explained it all too Izzy, watching as her sister stared in awestruck wonder. Before she had been convinced that she was nuts, now Izzy was convinced of her sisters insanity. And who wasn't? Anne herself sat there still expecting to wake up from the dream in her math class. "So, he's from the past."

"I am, apparently, and your sister is a witch."

To that Izzy just nodded, stood an paused by the door. "I don't mean to sound rude."

"That makes a change." Anne scoffed. "So far your manners toward our guest have been exemplary, I can't believe you'd want to break that."

"Thank you Annie. He." She looked Edward over, he stared back and raised an eyebrow, cocked his head. "Needs to wash." 

"But-" 

Anne had agreed without a word, following Izzys lead she fled her bedroom, Edward followed only as Izzy returned to drag him out. "We didn't entirely think this out did we?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how to take off armour Izzy?"

Edward laughed at that. "With all respect sweet ladies, you have a male stranger in your castle, one who is apparently dead or from the past, your lord and lady are not home and your throne spins, and you lady Anne did not meet Richard this lunch. I don't think removing armour is your biggest worry."

"Now Annie, now he has a point." 

All the more emphasised as the front door slammed closed and their mother shouted. "Girls I'm home, how was school?"

"Fine mother!" They both shouted back. 

"Good did you sort out last nights problem?"

"Yes, all sorted." They had both forgotten about it in fact around the time of Anne's trip to the 15th century, some how an argument with a sibling had seemed somewhat trivial. "Just doing homework now mum." Anne quickly pushed Edward back into her room, watching as he sat upon the chair, spinning it once more and looking through the photo album. "That should keep him out of trouble for five minutes." 

Anne grabbed Izzys hand, dragging her over to their parent room. "Do you think dad will notice you borrow some jeans and a t shirt for him?" She spoke quietly, almost whispering. 

"Me? He's your guest! You're the one who took up time travelling for a hobby." 

"Fine just, cover for me." 

"And which cover story would you prefer? Sorry mother dearest Annie is just in the 15th century and can't answer right now, or mummy, I think Annie brought home a dead guy?" 

"Very funny." 

"Well we have to tell her sometime." 

"True." Anne sighed and slipped into their parents room, rifling through the wardrobe in a desperate attempt to find Edward some clothes. Jumping as the door flew open and her mother walked in. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I can explain, well, no actually I can't." 

"You better find an explanation young lady and quickly." 

"Okay, I warn you in advance that you haven't got schizophrenia and you're not mad." She lead the way followed by her mother, then Izzy. Into her room. It took a moment for anyone to speak, Edward finally waved to break the silence. 

"Oh my God." Their mother nearly fell to the floor. "Girls how did you, Edward what are you wearing?"

"I know, if anyone had told me I'd be coming to the 21st century I may have dressed lighter, it's really too hot." 

"What did he say, coming, 21st... What is going on here?"

"Annie took up time travel mummy, isn't it wonderful, she's going to visit Henry VIII next."

"Henry-"

"Your grandson."

"I have a grandson-"

"I don't know now, since I kidnapped you! And no I'm not, u didn't choose to time travel it just happened."

"Annie sweetheart sit down, you're confused, Cecily always questioned if Edward died in the car and now we know he didn't, the poor boys traumatised as are you now." 

"Mum no really, im not traumatised, I really did time travel, I was in math class and then I wasn't-" 

"You skipped your maths class to time travel? You could have at least chosen to return there! This is all a mess and your father is going to go crazy." She stood up and paced "he's going to have a coronary."

"About me missing math class?"

"No you stupid girl about Edward! Do you think before you bring people forward!"

"You said that as if it was the most normal thing on earth, I've never done it before and I didn't intend to do it this time." 

"Oh that makes it okay then, this still hasn't explained why you were in my room."

"Ah yes, he needs clothes."

"And a bath by the smell of if."

"But we have one small problem."

"Do you know how to remove armour?" Isabelle smiled innocently. 

 

 

The bath had gone well, or as well as it could have when an infuriated Anne Beauchamp stripped a 17 year old to his skin and almost threw him into the water using a shower and cloth to scrub him clean. Much to his complaint of not needing a bath, he had one last week. Which was by now almost six centuries ago. Anne opened her window and looked to her sister. "He didn't smell so bad in the 15th century."

"No in a world of farming, poor sewage disposal, disease, booze and violence, I can't imagine he would." 

"When you put it that way." Anne shuddered, looking up as she heard voices her mother hurried Edward passed and into her room wrapped in towels. "I'll get the door!" Anne jumped to her feet and ran down the stairs opening the front door, freezing as she laid eyes upon Richard. 

"Anne, are you feeling better?"

"What? Yes much. What are you doing here?" 

"Well I came to see if you were better and-"

"Richard!" Izzy had begun to descend the steps. "Come in, there's something you should know." 

Anne sighed, closed the door silently hating her sisters cool hearted ways of dealing with these things. Mind, after Izzy had said, Richard upstairs is a guy who looks like the brother you thought to be dead, but it's okay cause he's really king Edward IV, he just doesn't know that yet, yep he'd be able to take anything. 

 

"It's quite the transformation." Anne Beauchamp looked over the young man now dressed in modern clothes. "You're skinny as a twig though." 

"I am?"

"Yes, and what I'll do with the armour I don't know."

"Would you kindly polish it and-"

"You can polish it more like."

"But I don't know how to-"

"You'll learn soon enough." She stood pulling him to his feet. "Now you me and the girls need to talk about what we'll tell their father. He won't believe this time travelling rubbish." 

"But he'll believe I survived a fall from a horse?"

"What?"

"Lady Anne said I fell from a horse." 

"Oh, well. Anne's always been romantic about these things. You were in a car that burnt to ashes, I'm not surprised you don't remember getting out." 

"What is a car?" 

"Oh you poor baby." She stroked his cheek gently, a sign of caring gone amiss to him. He followed her down the stairs, tripping as she quickly pushed him through the kitchen door, seeing Richard. "Girls a word, Richard make yourself comfortable dear." 

Anne and Izzy followed into the kitchen, Edward was wandering aimlessly, stopped as their mother handed him a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. "Sit, eat." 

Anne watched the near repeat of the office chair incident, until he gave up, instead sitting upon the side. Their mother broke off briefly to open the crisps for him. "He's clearly shaken, as far as telling your father goes we forget this time travelling rubbish." 

"You mean, we forget the truth." 

"If you say so Annie, I think you're all mistaken, that poor Edward is still in shock and he's told you of his delusions, you believe him. It happens my dear." 

"No, mother it doesn't." 

"And time travelling does?" 

"It does!" Edward jumped away as Anne sneezed covering both nose and mouth. "You didn't say you have the plague."

"I don't it's just a sneeze." 

"And the physician has bled you to be sure?"

"No but-"

"I didn't think so." 

"Edward the plague died out a while-" 

"Enough!" Their mother shouted "Edward eat. Anne, Izzy, as far as your father goes we'll tell him that Edward showed up, he doesn't remember the car crash but he didn't die, and we forget about the 15th century." 

"So I'm to live a lie?"

"I know you had great things set for you and everything, future king of-" she broke off at the look on his face. "I killed the ending for you huh? Boy don't read history books or you'll be pissed."

"You know I become king of England, you know I die in 1483, what else do you know?" 

"Nothing for now, look being here is better than dying from pneumonia." 

"I died of pneumonia? Edmund always bet I'd die of syphilis." 

"It could have been that, look point is, mums sayin you didn't and mums always right." 

"Women are never right, except ma mere."

"You can knock that off too." Isabelle scolded, satisfied as Edward held up a hand and finally began eating the crisps. 

"Now Annie bring Richard in here I think we have some explaining to do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by debsaux :) thank you, I'd of have been able to get my next idea without your help.

Richard could not believe his eyes. He hasn’t seen that face in two years. He’d always thought the man sitting in front of him was dead. This was not possible but yet here he was. His brother. Edward.

He knew Mrs. Neville was speaking to him, perhaps trying to explain but he couldn’t concentrate on her voice. It seemed to him like the world was falling out of track and nothing made sense anymore. He cleared his throat.

“What is this?” Richard asked. His voice sounded strange to his ears, distant. “What-What’s happening here? What is this?”

Richard had no idea how he looked in that moment. If the strange looks the Nevilles were giving him was any indication, then he didn’t looked very well at all.

Anne and Isabel’s mother took a step closer. She put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, but he couldn’t look at her for long. His gaze was drawn to that man that looks so much like his favorite brother.

“Richard, darling, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Neville said softly. “I know this must be very hard on you but, please, listen to me.” She waited for him to look at her before continuing. 

“This is Edward. He’s alive.”

“Alive?” Richard asked, confused. “But he burned. That’s what they told us, he burned.”

“He didn’t.”

Richard looked at that man again. Was he really Edward? After all this time, was he really here, safe?

Well, he was going to wish he wasn’t.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” he shouted, scaring everyone in the room and completely disregarding the fact that they had the same mother.

The man he was just now accepting to be Edward looked very offended by it.

“I beg your pardon?” said he, motioning to get himself up. “How dare you-”

“Oh, I do!” Richard was faster. He was the smallest of all his brothers but now, for everyone in the room, he seemed like a giant. A very angry giant. So much that Edward sat back when he got up. “You moronic jerk! I thought you were dead! We all did! We grieved for you, you stupid asshole!” He was so angry that he actually, for the first time in his life, felt urge to punch that little imbecile right in the face. “Goddammit, Edward, we threw you a FUCKING MEMORIAL SERVICE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU ALL THIS TIME?”

Edward looked at Anne and Isabel’s direction. They both seemed shocked. And a little bit scared. Isabel was even holding Anne’s arm as if she was going to throw the younger girl in front of her as a shield to protect her from Richard. It suddenly struck the boy that he had never shouted in front of them before. Or anyone, to be honest.

His long lost brother seemed very scared when he looked back at him. In fact, if Richard could hear his thoughts, he might be amused by it. All his brother could think of was that he wish he didn’t let the witches take his sword and armor.

“I am… sorry?” Edward said, hesitant.

Richard narrowed his eyes. He could feel the anger bubbling up in his throat all over again.

“You’re sorry?” said he with a grin in his face that would have George working for his money. “You had your entire family think you were dead for two years and you are… sorry?” He let out a very hysterical laugh. “Is our father alive too? Edmund? OUR DOG? Oh, tell me, Edward, if that’s really your name, did that car really crash? Because I’m starting to doubt!

“Oh, God, this is so awkward.” Isabel whispered in Anne’s ears. “Can we just leave, please? Please?”

Anne shushed her. There was no way she was going anywhere, not now. This was a part of Richard she never saw before and although she knew she was probably going to hell for it, she couldn’t help being slightly amused by the whole situation.

Isabel’s face was amazing. It was like someone made her sucked the juice of a lime. She was about to say something again, but their mother decided that was enough swearing and shouting in her house.

“Well, I’m glad you got it out of your system, Richard.” Said she, in a very disapproving tone. Richard blushed. She was right, he was being very rude. “Now calm down. I’m calling your family and my husband. They’ll be here soon. We will all get our answers, dear.”

“George is coming?” Isabel asked, her face suddenly lighting up. And then she looked at herself. “Excuse me for a second.” She said abruptly and ran up the stairs to her room.

She ran straight to her closet, almost desperately. She had just realized she looked hideous. Isabel couldn’t let George see her like that, all shaggy, with no makeup. She needed to change. Comb her hair. Brush her teeth?

You know what, she was taking a shower.

She put a dress on and some cute shoes. Not heels, though. Who wears heels at home? She had no idea how long she stayed upstairs and the noise of the shower (and later the blow-dryer) stop her from hearing anything that was going on down there. It wasn’t a surprise when she went back there and saw that her father was already in there.  


Richard Neville was a tall middle age man. He had curled black hair, like Isabel, and without any grey (Anne said it was because he dyed it, but they never get any confirmation on that subject), but today they were comb back in a very professional style. He was a lawyer and right now he had his lawyer face up.

Aunt Cecily and George were nowhere to be seen yet. No surprise there. That woman was known for being late.

“I see.” Richard Neville said. It seemed that they had already explained things to him. “So you have no memories of who you are whatsoever, Edward?”

“I do.” Said Edward. “I’m the Earl of March. The first son of His Grace, the Duke of Yo-”

“Nonsense.” Neville replied. He then turned to his wife, whispered very loudly (he was never discreet, the poor man): “He lost it. He boy is completely mad. We should call a doctor.”

Edward’s eyes widened. No wonder. He probably never saw a mental institution before and, if he did, it was probably horrible.

Anne was not as amused as before. She had to watch her mother tell a bunch of lies to her father, saying Edward survived not only a car crash, but a damn explosion and being burn to ashes. Oh, yeah. But time travel is impossible, sure. She tried to correct it several times, but each time she opened her mouth her mother shot her the most terrifying look and she decided it was better not. Isabel not being there to support her was even worse. Why did she have to go change anyway? It’s not like George would even notice. Or care. He wasn’t even here to begin with.

So she was quiet. She kept eyeing Richard from time to time but he was too concentrated on his ‘brother’ to pay any attention to her. That’s okay. She understood. She would probably be doing the same thing if the roles were inverted.

The doorbell rang. “I’LL GET IT!” Isabel shouted and ran to the door. Anne noticed how good her sister looked on the sundress. Her hair was shiny and wavy and she looked simple, comfortable yet adorable. Had she shower? Sweet Baby Jesus, what a waste. And it was all for George, that gossipy jerk. Anne would never forgive him for telling George she liked Richard.

They could all hear the steps in the hallway now. Anne even saw Edward stiffen up next to her and hold his breath. She felt sorry for him. He had to listen to Richard’s yelling and swearing and her father condescending tone. Had his sanity put in doubt, his pride hurt and his mother called a bitch. The fact that he didn’t do anything about it yet showed some serious nerves. Perhaps it was all the slaughtering at war. Maybe he killed so many peasants he was now very relaxed. She looked at his face. Well, maybe not.

Edward’s, George’s and Richard’s mother was now entering the room. George was coming right behind her, with Isabel somewhat attached to his arm. He didn’t seem to mind much about it and her sister was radiant, Anne could tell.

“Oh, Richard!” Cecily said to her father. “What a lovely surprise! What in the world are you doing home at this hour? Is there anything wrong, dear?” She then seemed to realize one of her sons were there too. Looking confused, she asked: “You’re here as well? What are you doing here?”

Richard raised his head to look at his mother. It was only then that Anne and everyone else was able to see how red his eyes were. ‘Is he crying?’ Anne thought, shocked. She never saw Richard crying. He was always so put together. Not even on the memorial, while his mother was sobbing. Back then he just looked very pale.

Watch Richard cry was terrifying for her. His mother thought the same, apparently, because she looked suddenly very frightened. Richard pointed to where Edward was awkwardly sitting, twisting his finger nervously, and Cecily turned his head to him. So did George.

At first there was silence. George didn’t even look like he was breathing at all. His face went extremely pale and Isabel worried he might have at heart attack at the tender age of sixteen. No one said a word. Edward was still twisting his fingers, wishing he would just wake up in his bed chambers soon and this would be over, just a very strange nightmare. But then he heard that sound.

It was very low. He was almost certain he made it up, but then it happened once more. He looked around, searching for the source and his eyes settle into that woman whose figure appears just like his lady mother. It was with shock that he saw the tears coming down her face. She was crying. And that sound he heard was a sob.

The Earl of March never saw his lady mother crying before. He wished she was screaming, like Richard. Crying was worse. And it was terrifying. If his lady mother was crying, then something was clearly wrong.

Cecily stepped closer to her soon. She could not believe her own eyes. All this time she was certain he was dead yet here he was. Her first boy. Her darling, darling boy. She went to him, hugged him, kissed him, run her fingers through his hair, she even smelled him. His hair of soft and he smelled of soap. Exactly how she remembered.

Watching that scene, all Isabel could think about was that she was very glad they made him shower. It would be impossible for Aunt Cecily to stand anywhere near him if he was still smelling like he did before.

She looked how her aunt was hugging him and felt her eyes watering. According to Anne, that wasn’t her real son, but the future King Edward IV, but Isabel guessed it didn’t matter anymore. She turned to her side to face George who was still very quiet and pale.

“Are you alright?” she asked in a concern tone. She kept her voice low, trying not to disturb the whole thing going on over there. George nodded, still silent. Isabel thought of pushing it, and normally she would have, but gave up. She had no idea how he must be feeling at the moment. Should she let him deal with it alone for now?

The truth is he was shocked. He knew that man was his brother Edward, but the whole concept of it just didn’t… stick, you know? And he didn’t have anything to say. Edward and George were brothers, but they were never that close. He was much closer to Edmund…

Oh, God. Edmund. If Edward was here, then that could mean…

“Where’s Edmund?” George said, abruptly. Everyone looked at him. His brother Richard stare was blank, like he didn’t understand English and couldn’t care less about it. His mother looked at him hopefully, still holding Edward, like she too had just realized what this meant. Mr. and Mrs. Neville shared a nervous look. Anne seemed very surprised, like she never thought anyone would make that connection. Isabel covered her face with her hands, so he didn’t know what she thought about it.

“Hm.” Richard Neville said, carefully. “We don’t know about Edmund.”

“But surely…” tried Cecily, gently stroking the hair of a very surprised Edward. “If Edward is alive then Edmund could be as well.” She looked at her eldest son, hopeful. “Right, son?”

Edward looked at her terrified. Good Lord, what did she wanted him to say? Last time he saw Edmund was in 1459. According to the Neville witch magic box, it was 2013. Edward was positively sure Edmund couldn’t be alive still. But his lady mother was looking at him with such hopeful eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her more. Instead, he said, apologetic:

“I know nothing of him.”

Her face fell a bit but not entirely. She sighted and it seemed to Edward that she was gathering strength. It this Cecily was as determined as his lady mother, then he had no doubt she was going to look for her Edmund. And Edward hopes she succeeds.

“We will search for him, Cecily.” Mrs. Neville said as she took walked to the other woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can be sure of that. And we will find him, if he’s out there somewhere.”

Cecily covered her friend hand with hers and nodded. She wiped her tears on a napkin the little Anne Neville handed to her. She was so unbelievably happy to see her son again. For two years she felt a horrible void in her house, her table and her heart. And now that void was smaller and it was easier for her to breathe.

She turned to Richard Neville, still holding her son close to her. It would take her a while to allow him to get out of her sight. But she needed to know what she had to do and what the implications of her son being alive are.

“Richard. What do I do now?” she asked. “He was presumed dead.”

Richard nodded and Cecily realized he already thought of it. Of course he had. He never missed a thing.

“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about it.” He replied. “Everything will be fine.”

She was relieved. He would make things right for her boy. She would take him back to their house, he would be with her. He would have his old room back; she never threw any of his things away. He could even go back to school.

“So what happens now?” Anne asked. She felt very awkward after all this. She was starting to think Isabel was right and they should have exited the room when Richard started screaming. But they didn’t and she felt like an intruder now, barging in a family moment she had no right to see.

“Now I’ll take my son home.” Cecily said, gently.

“Home?” Edward said all of the sudden. He looked at Anne. Anne looked at him and shrugged. She couldn’t help him now. Oops.

“Yes, dear.” Cecily said, confusing his behavior with excitement. “Your room is exactly how you left it. All your clothes are still there and everything.”

Anne smiled encouragingly to Edward. That wasn’t bad. It sounded nice. He would go home to a strange house, full of strange people, to a bedroom he never saw before and stuff that weren’t his. It could be worse, Anne guessed. He could have nothing.

Isabel frowned. It seems like she was the only one that could see the problem here.

“But…” Isabel started. They all looked at her, including George. She blushed. “What will he wear?”

They turned to look at Edward. He was wearing Richard Neville’s clothes, the ones Izzy and Anne picked up for him. When he got there, he was wearing armor.

“He has been gone for two years.” She pointed out. “I’m sure his clothes don’t fit him anymore. He needs to buy new ones.” She was right and they saw it. And as lovely as Cecily was, no seventeen year old boy wanted to shop with their mothers. “I can help!” she volunteered, excited. “I can take him shopping.”

Aunt Cecily hold Edward tighter but her father giggled a little bit. Isabel could see her father thought Edward’s clothes were the least of his problems, but he indulged her. He knew it was her way to help. He arched his eyebrows and looked at Aunt Cecily, as if asking her permission. Izzy waited. Aunt Cecily seemed afraid for a moment, but she nodded in agreement.

“I suppose you can, sweetheart.” Said she. “Thank you.”

Everyone seemed to relax visibly after that. After all, the worst part was over. Isabel was content and so was Cecily. Anne was still a bit reluctant about lying like this, but couldn’t see how she could fix it yet. Even Edward was resigned with his fate.

Anne was the only one who saw Richard clean his face with his sleeve.


	4. Chapter 4

_Topman, Next, River Island and even Primark._

 

 _Yes_ , even Primark; she never, ever shopped there. Ever. That's where the main stream kids shopped, the main stream kids whose daddy wasn't a millionaire. Edward had been a dream, most boys complained when taken shopping, he had followed in silence, agree with her, tried on clothes and even at one point called her Lady Isabel. 

 

Yet things had become weird when he had tried to hold her Han when crossing the road. For a man who had nearly been hit by a car six times that day? He was doing well. "We need to get you a phone too, so totally! And it'll need camera and Bluetooth and... Wait, you'll not use those will you?"

 

"What is a phone lady Isabel? More witchcraft?"

 

"The talking box?"

 

"Oh, yes, witchcraft."

 

"Yes, I guess it must be." She offered an exasperated sigh and guided him across the road. "Starbucks first though, do you like coffee?"

 

"Coff-? What? No I don't like coughing."

 

"No, it's like hot juice that keeps you awake."

 

"Why would I want that? I don't drink witch potions." 

 

She rolled her eyes pulling him sideways into Starbucks sitting him at a table. Sighing as she ordered, looking back. The people next to him must have thought him insane, talking to himself, muttering about how strange this witches hut was; how surprised he was about the number of people prepare dot engage in witchcraft, how bad London would smell when they had finished burning them all. Isabelle blushed, gulped and hurried back to the table carrying two cups. “Drink that.” She placed the cup in front of him, watching as he offered her a sceptical look, an eye brow raise before he drank it.   
  
“Its strange.”  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“Its... Hot.”  
  
“Will you drink it Edward?”  
  
“Yes. I suppose so.” He didn’t finish the sentence, too many people were already staring, more attention would not be needed. What would he ever do should his father hear that he had been in a witch den? Would he be executed? Put to death by beheading? Or would they burn him like a regular commoner? Hang draw and quarter him? The thought was terrifying. He shuddered.   
  
“Hey, it's okay.”   
  
“It is?”  
  
“Yes. Oh Edward, you shouldn't be scared.” Isabelle drank the coffee, thinking of what she was saying. She thought to her fathers words, he had told her that Edward was not from the past, he had said the boy was simply confused, probably scared. He called Anne insane from trauma, that no one had expected to see that Edward was alive. Especially not a teenage girl. Isabelle knew she would believe her father, he was a smart man, a man who knew how to handle these things. Yet, it seemed for once he could not be right, Edward seemed completely clueless, how could a boy that grew up in the world much the same as hers forget everything, not just his family, not be seemingly displaced but forget what should be by now innate. Cars, computers, coffee...   
  
He was utterly clueless.

 

“So after you have finished your coffee.”  
  
“This is coffee?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Oh.” He smiled, blushing slightly, eyes lowered. He offered her the look of someone taking pleasure in something he knew he should not. She sighed and fought the temptation to ruffle his hair. At that moment he had looked less like the adult he was, the older sibling of George which they had both looked up to for experience, for what to do, had thought to be strong, invincible and utterly wonderful, and more like a child, an innocent child who would be easily hurt if left alone. Who would be swept up in the vast crowds and never seen again, so vulnerable and scared. How could someone so grown up, so confident be so timid?   
  
“We'll go and get you some shoes, you could probably do with some.”  
  
“Do you have boots in your which land?”  
  
“We have boots, pumps, trainers. You'd like trainers.”  
  
“Trainers?”  
  
“Like what I'm wearing.”

 

“They look most uncomfortable, how does one hold them on their feet?  
  
“You're right, boots... yes. Boots.” She smiled, unwilling to explain the things she could not After all, how could she tell him how to hold trainers on his feet when she did not know herself? Shoelaces and things only did so much, and it all seemed like too long ago that she had learned to explain it to him, now, over coffee. “Is there anything you will need for home? Anything you do not have already?”  
  
“A horse. I left mine behind.”  
  
“I don’t think a horse in a city is a good idea Edward.”  
  
He looked around, nodded, this woman seemed smart. No, too many witches and too many horseless carriages for horses to prosper. He would need to learn to use that transport – a most strange thing- they had used to get here today. A bus? Whatever that was..   
  
“Then soap.”  
  
“Aunt Cecily has soap already.”  
  
“But it smells strange.”  
  
“Edward, I respect your decisions in life. Know that, but you are not permitted to smell like a medieval peasant.”  
  
“How dare you. You are not to speak to a Lord of the realm in such-”  
  
“Okay okay!” they had earned several looks, all which declared him insane, all which offered her sympathy. All which said it was time they were leaving now. She smiled awkwardly, not wanting to make this more difficult and stood picking up the cup. “Carry that, we'll walk and talk.”  
  
“Walk and-”

 

“Yes, just drink when we are walking, it will make a great hand warmer.”   
  
“Warmer? Your land is so hot already-”  
  
“I get that.” She smiled and picked up the bags, walking out of the shop with him quickly at heel. Approached a road she cringed as he stepped out without looking, quickly she took his hand and pulled him back, much to his surprise and almost clear disapproval. He had in fact offered her the look of someone who had tried to kill him, as though he was most unused to physical contact. As though he would have her beheaded for her actions, because touching him was paramount to treason. She almost burst out laughing, to humour him, even if he was the Earl of March as he claimed, objecting to her father, and he was from the 15th Century, as Anne still believed, then she was sure that to touch an Earl, even if he was the son of a Duke was not illegal, whether he encouraged the contact or not. Especially if she was saving his life. “Edward, we're going to do this every time we cross a road.”  
  
“You'll hold my hand? As tough I am an infant in his mothers care, or a child on the battle field?”  
  
“Yes. That.”  
  
“I would rather you did not madam, for it is sinful for me to hold your hand, and your father would be most disapproving. He would have me flogged-”  
  
“No he wouldnt, You met my dad remember?”  
  
“Warwick?”  
  
“You keep saying that, he's just a lawyer no Earl.”  
  
“Nope, you're mistaken.”  
  
No buddy, you're the one whose mistaken, you’re the one whose stark raving mad. “Yes dear, I am the one who is mistaken.” She shook her head, walking him across the road, despite his objections. Indeed, she ended up holding his hand for most of the journey home. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter sucks :( let me know what you all think of it!

Edward sat upon a bed as small as any he had ever seen. He had rather believed that the common folk slept upon the floor, yet they had deceived him, they each had mini beds. He was utterly confused; what did peasants complain about? They had beds and pillows and goose down duvets and they didn't share a chamber with their brother the earl of Rutland. His eyes were fixed on a screen, a moving picture of people which was so accurate it could have been people inside the box. Some minutes ago his curiosity had made the young Richard think he was devoid of his senses. He had approached the uh, television, and tapped it, question who kept people in a glass fronted box. They must be witches.

Now young Richard sat on a replica of the spinning throne the Neville girl had owned. Silently staring. Looking over books. "Edward?"

The earl of March jumped and looked thinking of something to say, he settled for mute staring and tried to smile. "Are you okay? I wanted to apologise, for the other day. You know I love you brother?"

Love? Brother? Was Richard gay? For he was not this boys brother, such displays of affection toward an earl should have been sanctioned; except they did not believe he was an earl, the son of a royal duke. He inhaled deeply, trying to push his pride aside, to respond to his, uh, brother. 

"It's, okay?" 

"You're sure?" Richard looked delighted, as though that answer was all he had been looking for ever. He seemed more like a serving boy than the brother of a declared earl. That would have to be sorted if he was to keep any appearances up at court. 

"Yes." Edward laid upon the mattress sighing in discomfort, this was no feather mattress, but it would do till he got home to Ludlow, or Fotheringhay. 

"That's great." Young Richard approached sitting beside his older brother resting a hand on Edwards shoulder, a smile graced Richards face as his older brother relaxed, his eyes fixed on the tv. 

"Dickon, why do the witches shrink people into glass fronted boxes?"

"What?" 

He pointed to the tv. "Why? We have jesters and-"

"Ned I think you need a psychiatrist-"

"A what?"

"Mental health doctor?"

He sat up suddenly, white as the cliffs of Dover. "You'll put me in bedlam? For saying they are witches? But Dickon I-" 

"No Ned. Oh Ned. Post traumatic stress that's all. You'll be fine when you remember. you probably hit your head and it's causing these delusions where you think you're-"

"I am the earl of March why will none of you believe me?"

God Richard knew this would hurt, he nodded and smiled. "Okay, explain the concept to me how can you be the earl of a month?"

"That's stupid, you can't be. I'm the earl of the welsh marches."

"Right..." Richard trailed off looking up at the tv. "have you bothered to call Will? You really should."

"Will?"

"Hastings? Your school friend."

"School?" 

"You don't remember school?" 

"No I-" he picked up a book as Richard handed it to him. Opened it and skimmed the pages staring at the writing, how strange it was. "What's this?"

"Your work." 

"My, you're mistaken that is not my writing. I have a scribe. Besides I'd have signed it E, Marche." 

"I don't doubt it, believe me I do not." Richard sighed and reached the remote turning the tv off. "Mum says you should shower." 

"Shower?" 

"You're joking? Right?" When his question was answered with a blank look he sighed. "Come I'll show you." Richard stood, Edward followed. Reaching the bathroom Richard opened the door to a large shower waiting till Edward was close before he flicked it on. Watching as Edward lost colour quickly.

"This is what you get for your witchcraft! God is punishing you by having it rain in your castle! Hot rain! You should not sin and this would not happen." He stepped back, the radiator warming his back he turned quickly, a look of horror upon his face. "This is hell, I'm in hell..." George was there to catch him as he fainted. It was seconds before Cecily was up the stairs and screaming. 

"Edward? Edward! George call a doctor!"

"Mum he just doesn't understand the shower it all got too much." 

George watched as his mother fussed, kissing Edwards head, stroking his hair, sobbing. Muttering his name in a state of panic. George looked to his younger brother, Richard shrugged. A smile crossed George's face as he stepped around his mother kneeling. He knew just how to handle this; with precise aim and force he sent a hand around Edwards face watching as his older brother opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek. 

"You touched me? Ma mere he touched me." He looked to Cecily in blatant confusion. "He has no right to touch me."

"Edward, oh Edward." She could think of nothing more to say as she kissed his cheek. Helping him to his feet. "I think you need sleep, sleep is the cure to all of this." 

He traced a cross over his torso, how he hoped his new lady mother proved right. How he hoped he would wake up from this terrible dream.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by my wonderful writing parner debsaux :) thank you

Cecily sighed happily. If asked, she would say her life hasn’t been this good in years. Two years, to be more precise. But everything changed a few days ago, when she received a phone call from her dearest friend, Anne Beauchamp-Neville, and her eldest boy returned to her.

She thought him dead in the accident that killed her husband and her other son, Edmund (although she was only sure of that fact two days ago, Richard, Anne husband, had confirmed), but he wasn’t. He was alive and now he was home, with her.  


Richard and Anne daughter, Isabel, had offered to take him shopping. At first, Cecily was a little nervous about letting Edward out of her sight again; she feared what might happen to him when she wasn’t looking. But she then realized it would be ridiculous to lock him up in the house. He was only seventeen! She couldn't keep him away from the world forever just because she was afraid. Besides he needed new clothes and she couldn’t pretend she knew what the kids were wearing these days.  


“Ok, boys.” She said as she parked the car. “I want all of you to be in best behavior. Don’t embarrass me.” She turned to her left and looked at her eldest, Edward. She had been hesitant to scold him lately; he had just gotten back to her. “Edward, dear, if you could restrain yourself from telling people you’re the Earl of September-”  


“March. I’m the Earl of March, ma mere.” He replied.  


“Yes, that. I’m sorry.” Cecily continued. “But if you could not mention it, it would be lovely, OK?” she requested softly. He nodded. “Thank you, darling. Also, please, call me mum.” With that, she unlocked her seat-belt and exited the car.  


She heard the sound of others doing the same and so she walked towards the restaurant without hesitation.  


Cecily thought it would be a good idea to spoil her children a little bit today. They were going out for lunch for the first time since Edward got back to them. Richard, George and she had all agreed (although George was reluctant to) it would be nice to take him to his favorite place. Well, at least it was his favorite two years ago.  


She went in the restaurant (it was a pizza place. Edward didn’t have any fancy taste in food, really) and asked for a table for four. The girl at the balcony nodded and asked her to wait for a second. Cecily then turned to her sons.  


She stopped midway, terrified. “WHERE’S EDWARD?” she damn right shouted, panicking. She could feel herself starting to over ventilate already. Oh, no, she thought, it’s happening again.  


Richard and George looked around, scared. Edward wasn’t anywhere in sight. Richard decided to look outside of the restaurant, perhaps he just got distracted by something. He was doing that a lot lately, like everything he saw was new. Anne told him this was not the real Edward, but instead the future King Edward IV and that he came from the past, but Richard had just rolled his eyes at her. It was crazy. Yet Edward seemed to believe it, he was constantly referring to himself as a Lord and he didn’t seem to know how anything worked anymore.  


The day Richard turn the radio on, Edward almost had a seizure. He kept mumbling something about witches and fire.  


Richard turned his head at all directions when he was in the street. London was very crowded (like that was new) and noisy, but he could still hear his mother starting to sob from inside. He started to get nervous. Where the hell was Edward anyway?  


He walked a little to his left, where there was an electronics shop. Perhaps he was watching the little people on the magic box, as he called it. But he wasn’t and Richard turned around. He meant to go in the other direction, towards the flower shop and Nike’s and passed through his mother’s car. He suddenly stopped.  


Richard looked through the window and sighed in relief. Edward was still inside, looking positively furious. He seemed to be struggling with something and Richard noticed it was the seat-belt. He couldn’t get the seat-belt in the same way as he did couldn’t turn the lights on in his bedroom and Richard would often find him in the dark. After a while, he had given up on trying to make Edward understand he could turn the lights on and that no, it wasn’t witchcraft and he wouldn’t be hung for it. He just gave him some candles and a match box instead. And then he had to explain how to light a match. Frankly, Richard loved his brother. But he was exhausted.  


He knocked on the window. Edward lifted his head and gave him a hesitant smiled. He was always hesitant towards all of them and Richard blamed himself for it. He shouldn’t have yelled at him that day. His brother was seriously messed up.  


Richard signaled the car’s door lock. His mother had the keys and it could only be opened from the inside. Edward eyebrows joined each other in a confused expression and Richard waved more sorely. Edward raised his hand and waved back.  


Richard face-palmed himself. He then turned around and went into the restaurant again to get his mother’s keys.  


Edward was left alone. He was beginning to feel scared. When his new lady mother had left this strange horseless carriage he tried to follow her, but this thing, whatever it was, didn’t let him. It was keeping him prisoner inside the carriage. Alone! Why? He remembered travelling in one of those bigger ones with Lady Isabel when they bought clothes and he wasn’t trapped like this!  


Edward didn’t like this world. This other was kind and those boys that keep telling him they were his brothers (although his little brother were never that old) were nice enough, but everything was so different. Oh, how he wished he was home, with his real lady mother and brothers and his sister Margaret…  


A knock on the glass window made him jump. This new Dickon was back. He was holding a set of strange metal… keys? Edward was not sure. He could never be sure of anything in this world, it was all too confusing. He had once stepped into a room in his new house and found a cold cabinet. George had scorned him seeing his surprise (“It’s just a fridge, you weirdo!”) and laugh at him.  


Dickon opened the door. “You have no idea the scare you gave us!” he said cheerfully. He leaned over Edward and did something. The rope, or whatever it was, that was keeping him there retracted and he was free. “We thought we lost you. Again. Mum was hysterical.” Dickon continued talking. Edward felt a little guilty. It was never his intention to alarm the lady. He would have followed her if he could.  


“I apologize.” Edward said. “I was not able to release myself from that treacherous… what was that?”  


Richard chuckled. “It’s a seat-belt. You know seat-belts, Ned, they protect you in case there’s an accident.”  


Oh, so that what it was for! Edward thought it was more likely to be an object of torture. It would most certainly irritate a man to his death.  


“Let’s go get some pizza, ok?” Richard said after a minute of silence and guided him towards the… was that a tavern? If it was, it was the strangest looking tavern Edward had ever seen. A entire wall was made of glass!  


“What is pizza?” he asked.  


Richard sighed. “Flat bread with stuff on top of it. Like an open sandwich.” He said. Edward thought about it for a while.  


“What is a sandwich?” he then asked.  


“Sliced bread with stuff in the middle.”  


"What's sliced bread?"  


To that, Richard just rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback guys good bad and prompts :) we love all suggestions and comments :) they're much appreciated


	7. Chapter 7

History class...

Three weeks had passed in purgatory and Edward had found himself forced into 'school' two weeks ago. Cecily and that man, Richard Neville, the lawyer who looked like the earl of Warwick had selected his classes. George had been less than happy to let him join his history class, even if he did sit across the room. "So the wars of the roses." 

Edwards attention returned to the woman at the front. A woman. Teaching? It was all so strange. Females were everywhere, most wearing rags resembling skirts! But they could not be, surely? The old gowns seemed to have been forgotten, that girls as young as twelve had forgotten them and left only in their under kirtles. Some looked like they had forgotten even that. It was no wonder to him that half had been dressed like boys by their parents, wearing a very strange form of hose. The teacher was no exception, she too seemed to have forgotten her gown. Yet he said nothing, George's glare told him to remain silent and take notes. Of course, he had tried but the quills were impossible and came with no dipping ink. How could he write without dipping ink? 

"We all know the basics of course York vs Lancaster." 

Edward sat in open mouthed shock. The wars of the roses was the feud he had grown up with? The never ending strife which had broken to civil war and exile just months before the Neville girl turned his life upside down. What would they tell him? How did it end. 

"It seems your books are wrong, it was only last week historians realised how wrong they were. There was no Edward the fourth. Well not until much later.. It was indeed Edmund who took the throne for York. Young Edward Plantagenet, the earl of March disappeared in the winter of 1459. Chroniclers don't say what happened to him. Likely killed and his body disregarded. We are unsure." 

So it was true? He was in hell? 

"Most of the Yorkists were of course by this point dead. Ludlow, combined with the death of the earl of March left only the earl of Rutland and the duke of York himself to fight the cause." She turned and checked Edward was writing notes, sighing "Ned are you taking this in?"

"I am afraid I know all of this already." George's glare told him not to mention how personally. 

"Very well. So when the duke of York went to Wakefield in December 1460-"

"Wakefield?"

"Yes, Sandal Castle."

"Sandal? In winter?" Edwards eyes bulged "how many men?"

"About 2000."

"What? That was a tactical disaster! Why Sandal?"

"I don't know Edward. I was not the duke of York. As I was saying, and relaying of Edwards knowledge, it was a tactical disaster as the duke died along with Salisbury. Leaving Edmund who they thought until recently to be at Wakefield to claim victory at mortimers cross-" she gasped as quickly Edward had packed away his books, wiping his eyes quickly. George stared in wide eyed fury. "Edward-"

"My father, I must go now." 

"Edward I understand but-" she rested her hand upon his shoulder jumping back as he tried to push her.

"Don't touch me! Don't! How dare you!" He quickly fled the room, outrage almost occuring as George followed quickly, chasing his brother sending him to the floor with a trip. 

"What the hell do you-" he stopped seeing tears in Edwards eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Papa is dead." 

"Ed-"

"Not your father and the man you reckon my father. My father, the duke of York, slain at Wakefield and Edmund that coward left him!" 

"If it helps then duke of yorks head got displayed for all to-" George jumped back as Edward vommitted "doesn't help then?"

"Papa, head, where?"

"York. You're a bloody weirdo." George watched Edward going from white to grey, he'd not taken a breath in almost a minute before George held his nose tight forcing him to breathe.

"I have to leave, I must I must-"

"Edward-" George tried to grab him but failed as with the speed of a medieval knight not donning his armour Edward fled the building. George sighed. He would tell their mother about this later. 

Cecily arrived at the house to see her eldest son sat on the front steps soaked through to the skin and sobbing. "Edward. Dear god." She forgot the shopping locked the car and ran over lifting him and guiding him inside. "I'll get some towels sweetheart, stand by the radiator." A blank look in return as he wiped his eyes. "The hot metal plate against the wall." She walked him over leaving him as she ran to fetch towels quickly lighting the fire as she returned. "Wrap yourself in towels and get those clothes off you'll get pneumonia."

She turned her head, he'd been quick to follow that order. In fact she had learned in the last few weeks that her son was no longer shy for nakedness, they did not share opinions on this. When Edward believed that to sit in his 'chamber' naked was acceptable, she had not argued yet had left and quickly closed his door. 

She turned back to see him wrapped in towels; she kneeled before him stroking his cheek. "You were crying sweetheart what's wrong?" 

"Papa died." 

"Yes he did darling when the car crashed it was instant-" 

"No! He died at Wakefield!"

"Died in Wakefield yes it was summer in Yorkshire-"

"Sandal castle.."

"You've been there."

"I know that! I was four and I ran around the battlements as though I was older screaming about how I wanted to be a knight already." 

"Yes that's right!" She smiled widely and tried to take him in her arms, almost shaken to tears by the rejection.

"Do you have no understanding of etiquette woman? Do not hug me I am your superior." 

"No-"

"If my father died I am duke of York." 

"No darling you're not." She despaired silently, he had gone from being an obscure earl of a month, or something, which no one had heard of, to one of the most famous dukes in England. Would he appose the royal family as imposters next? Burn parliment for usurping the monarchs power? She shuddered and stroked his cheek smiling as he sighed and let her. "Edward you're shocked you probably remember it all and it's coming back."

"I was not there to remember it madam for if I was sandal would have been our victory." 

"Of course. I think you need your bed darling. I'll put you in mine actually I want to keep an eye on you. We shall get you some toast and butter and put you to bed. Oh sweetheart." she stood and kissed his forehead wiping one of his tears. Her trajectory to the kitchen was stopped as he spoke. 

"Thank you, mum." 

She smiled blushing scarlet, finally her son, her beautiful son was calling her mum not am mere or lady mother. His ridiculous formality had slipped and now, only now. He was calling her his mum. She almost kissed him for joy as she left the kitchen. It was moments before she heard him trail upstairs, minutes before she found him fast asleep in her bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several years have passed since Edwards arrival in the modern world.

York University  
Department for medieval studies 

He sat alone, as often he did, hugging the books which told him what his life should have been. It all seemed strange, even now, that the pictures the woman showed went from the magic box into the magic wall. That they moved and glided at a witches control. He liked professor Woodville, for all her femininity, her attractive nature and her youth. She was close to his age. He stood slowly, gathering books he had been reading and descending the stairs. It wasn't long before he jumped to a halt. "Edward." It was her. He smiled and composed himself, turning to face her. 

"Your essay on life in the Middle Ages. How you knew half of that information baffles me." She smiled as she spoke, each moment endearing. 

"Practical first hand experience."

She giggled, a soft laugh which made his insides warm. His hand his the table for support as he almost toppled, his eyes naturally falling to the woman's breasts. He gulped dragging them to her face in desperate attempts to keep both their dignity. "You mean from chronicles?"

"Something like that yes." He smiled, the slight glisten of teeth visible as he tried to look convincing. No this woman was different, he would not convince her of his insanity just yet. He would not tell her he had been destined for great things in his days of earldoms and duchys. He watched as she began to log off the computer as she spoke to him.

"Then you need to improve your referencing sweetheart." 

"Sweetheart?" With that he truly did stumble back, muttering a prayer in Latin just loud enough for her to hear. Her eye brow raised forcing him to sigh. "It means heaven help me father."

"You're catholic?"

"I believe in god, if that is what you're asking. Or I did. But he now seems ever absent from." He paused. Almost saying you people, that would have been too far. Much too far. "Well people just don't believe here as where I grew up."

"Oh?" She looked confused as she gathered books up in her arms. He did the same, drawing more curious attention as he handled them with supreme care. 

"Rouen. Normandy."

"You're French? Oh that's delightful." She grinned. "I love France. My mother is French."

"Yes, well I'm English I was just born in France."

"You'll have dual citizenship I always thought that would be-"

"No, I mean I've never really been away from, uh, England since I came over. So." He smiled shyly putting the books with care into a leather satchel, closing it. "My referencing, yes I'll work on it Ma, I mean dr Wood-"

"Elizabeth, please Edward, unless you'll have me call you something stupid like his lordship." She laughed, only for a moment before she saw the startled look upon his face. Saw the glint in his eyes, she saw hope. "You don't get it? You do an entire essay on the Plantagenets in detail like no other and yet you don't see the humour when your name becomes a pun." She shook her head laughing more as she walked toward the door, pausing she turned back. "Oh Edward, I'd love to know what happened to young Edward Earl of March. Look into that and tell me, tomorrow lunch?" With that she left.

For a moment Edward stood alone, stunned and smiling. "Oh, if only you'd believe it." 

 

 

Middleham, North Yorkshire

Edward pulled the car into the drive, almost sucked into a hug as was custom every time he drove the damn thing. Cecily Neville, his mothers name in this life and the last would never let him from her sight without a ceremonial hugging. Especially when he controlled the horseless carriage. He had long since stopped his protests which once had accompanied her fusses. Now he took them graciously an kisses we cheek in affectionate return. If he said anything for this woman, she was the closest to normality a woman here would get. Not ever over reaching herself, comfortable in the home and a confident mother. Of course, he loved the independent females, Anne, Isabel, Margaret and of course, Dr Woodville. So many women in this time were so very intelligent, but none understood him as this woman did.

She took his bag with care, recalling when she had creased the page of a book much to his displeasure. Histerics had quickly followed. "Edward, how was school?"

"I believe you call it university mother."

"So pedantic." She laughed, ruffling his hair as he lowered himself onto the couch. 

"Was that a compliment?"

"No you fool." George sighed, his feet raised on a ottoman as he watched the flickering box. 

"I see you are, as ever, intolerable. Where is Richard mother?"

"Upstairs, with Anne." 

Edward made a whistle noise, jumping up quickly racing up the stairs, George quickly at his heels. Both hammered at Richards door, both mildly disappointed as he answered the door, fully dressed and unembarrassed. "Yes?"

"Anne's here?" George asked breathlessly. "Are you two, well yano, doing it?"

"Our homework? Yes. Were having a study session."

"Oh of course you are." Edward rolled his eyes. "Even Edmund would have got on with it-" the name went down like a tonne of bricks. George glared, Richard hid a sob. "I'm sorry. I forget."

"It's okay." Anne smiled as she came close, tapping Edwards hand lightly. She sighed happily. Always she had checked up on him, even now she checked he was adjusting to the strange witchy world she had brought him to. Even now he struggled with some of the finer ideas. Using a fork, he thought that somehow he would never manage that. Yet beauties had come of this place, sex was easy work and liberated, the church controlled little and although men could love men and witches roamed free, all was made okay with pizza and lager. No, on the food and wine consumption little had changed. Only he knew, if ever he was to return, he'd miss the pizza and of course, how he'd miss Starbucks. 

"Yeah, it's fine." Richard smiled offering a assertive nod. "Now can I help you both?"

"No-" George turned in his disappointment and left. Storming down the stairs to his program. 

"Yes, can I borrow your phone?" 

"My, wait, you want to borrow the little light box?"

"Yes, I need to use it. Keep in touch with a girl, woman?" 

"She's probably a woman Edward." Anne smiled as she spoke, handing Richards phone to him with a smile. "Just bring it back when you've done."

"Much thanks-"

"Many thanks." She simply smiled again, watching him turn, about to close the door. She sighed as he turned back. "Yes edward?"

"Could you show me how you use this dreaded thing?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter I know sorry for taking so long to update!

She giggled, sipping coffee as she looked at him. It was not the first time they had done this, engaged in forbidden hobbies. He looked back, a smile upon his face as they discussed now the insanity which he had often brought to the coffee table. "So tell me again." Dr Woodville smiled, her eyes glittering as she spoke to the young man before her. She knew his story well, assumed the boy was plagued by somewhat tragic delusions. Delusions he had at win control, and he now so wholly believed. 

He sighed, taking a sip of the sweet caffeine filled nectar. A beverage to which he had become addicted; a beverage he should sorely miss upon his hopeful return to sanity. "I am Edward Plantagenet. Earl of March. First born son of his Grace the Duke of York." He sat for a moment, pondering. His studies had taken him deep into a reality he did not remember. The sacking of Ludlow, his flight with Warwick to Calais, whilst his noble father and sweet Edmund ran to Dublin. He sighed again,taking another gulp as his head troubled in ways it now too often did. "But if your books are right. I am also Duke of York, Earl of Rutland, Cambridge and Ulster and Lord of Ireland." A small grimace slipped over his face. "I suppose also heir to the throne of England. According to the ruling of the Act of Accord."

She smiled and nodded. The boy was crazy, but it made a good story. She looked at her watch, 6pm. Sighing heavily she rose, cursing the time for making her meetings with him so mercilessly short. She saw his smile as he took her in, blushing incredibly at her own thoughts, own memories she conceded,insanity is not all bad. No, for his delusions made him like no other barely post teen boy. At twenty one he met every inch of the chivalric code. He was indeed the very image of a knight. A true gentleman, much as he claimed he was by birth, upbringing and blood.

Whoever thought the nobility could be so kind in their piety? 

They had reached the doors, Edward sighed seeing the woman who claimed to be his mother waiting. The only relief from the confining parental restraints was the familiar face of Anne Neville. The young, friendly girl he has met upon his arrival into madness. The girl who truly understood him, the only person in the twenty-first century who did not think him insane. Ergo, the person wholly responsible for his incarceration in a world he hated. He kissed Elizabeth hastily, wishing her goodbye and crossed the road, silently climbing in the car his 'mother' had waiting. He didn't answer her questions. Only silently watched the world whirl by. 

The longing took him, the desire to be home in the vast quarters of Baynards Castle, their London manor. Or at Sandal, Fotheringhay or Ludlow. Even Rouen or Dublin would do. How he longed to see the colours of Westminster Palace, to hear the familiar Latin tongues,to pray in a church so utterly Catholic and not demolished by the Tudor dynasty and science. Most of all however, he wanted to once again see Edmund. To stop the Yorkshire tragedy he had read with tears. To see his father and to stop Edmund taking the responsibility he was. It ready for.

This could never happen. For whenever he mentioned Edmund his mother would sob and hug him. As though he bad unhealed wounds. It was confining. And so he had settled for silence in family matters, allowing George the control he so clearly wanted. He had slipped into a seclusion which displeased too many. Hours passed in silence, praying in the bedroom they had graciously offered him. Praying for a return which never came. 

That evening followed the same routine. He sat in the bedroom readings books. The talking box switched off despite Richards encouraging. The door opened, as was too rare and he looked up. Smiling briefly as Anne Neville entered. She said nothing, sitting silently on the chair until his eyes regarded her silently. The smallest smirk etched on his lips. She blushed under his gaze. Always intense, such pretty eyes so unlike anyone else's. Cecily had put it down to contact lenses, her son's sudden phase she could not break. Anne was not fooled. Knowing the truth she knew sometimes gave one the advantage. Especially where Edward was concerned. To everyone else, he was a boy gone insane, troubled by trauma and scars. ' Anne Neville knew this to be true. But the scars were not those all thought they were. His scars were caused by the tearing out of roots from his normal life. She saw him so pained each day. That same longing in his eyes which said enough that she could know all. To restore his equilibrium, to give him peace she would need to do the impossible. To end his suffering was to send him back. 

If only she could. 

"I am sorry you know." He just stared, blankly before finally nodding. "I didn't mean to bring you here. Didn't intend any of this. You were set for such good things and now... now you are trapped here and it is all my fault." She tried to smile."You could have been king of England."

"Could have. But being King Annie. It doesn't have total appeal. Think, all the people who would want to kill me. At least here they just want to section me."

"Just? Boy you take that casually."

"It beats hanging, drawing and Quartering"

"Oh any day." She giggled. "So Elizabeth. You kissed, aunt Cecily is pissed. But I guess you two are getting serious." 

"Yes. Well. As serious as we can. One day I hope to go back, I know she could never come."

And what, thought Anne, if she could?


End file.
